First Time for Everything
by Skeexikx
Summary: As the title says, there's a first time for everything and Tintin finds himself exploring the delightful aspects of intimacy. A bit more than pwp, but really – it's pwp. Tintin&OC. OC? WTH! Yes… I hear you, but bear with me. And you know - this one may actually fit the romance catagory - sorta...
1. The Savior

Tintin finds love in the arms of an unusual freedom fighter…

Yup - an OC. I can hear you now – we don't need no stinkin' OC. But don't worry, doesn't shine with an inner light, levitate or bring the dead back to life…

Okay – this particular coupling I know I haven't seen explored in 'M'. At least I don't think there has been... Once again – thank Bianca - She made a statement in a review and put this into my head.

Don't own Tintin & company, Moulinsart does.

Standard apology for misspellings, errant comma's and irritating apostrophes.

…

Tintin ran through the darkened jungle, trying to keep the barely glimpsed figure in sight. He had only gotten an impression of dark eyes that had glared at him, the rest of the features hidden from both a pulled down shapeless cap and a kerchief that was tied over the lower half of the face.

Whoever this person was, he owed his life to them. Tintin was sure his luck was up when he found himself face to gunpoint with the Lieutenant. The man had sneered at him, called him a fool and deserved to die for his meddling ways. Just as the man's finger tightened on the trigger than a shot rang out and Tintin gaped as a small hole appeared between the man's eyes, a trickle of blood oozing down. Before the lieutenant had collapsed to the ground, Tintin felt his arm grabbed and then was being dragged away.

A voice had hissed at him. "Want to live? Then follow me."

After that it was a matter of dashing from one dark spot to another, his savior silent, only communicating in short, sharp movements of the head, or a quickly pointed finger. Finally they had reached the camp perimeter, slipped past the outlying guards and then entered the jungle.

Tintin had no idea how long he ran, stumbling over roots, batting vines out of the way, splashing through streams. Only that the person kept moving quickly and surely, stopping only long enough to make sure he'd caught up and then moving on. If they were following a trail, it was one only his rescuer knew.

The one time Tintin had tried to speak had resulted in a gloved hand roughly grabbing his mouth, the masked face hissing into his ear, "Quiet, no speak."

Considering the person had saved his live, he felt it only right to comply.

Coming to a halt as he realized the figure was waiting for him by a large tree, he crouched down beside the person. For a long moment they waited silently. Tintin realized his ears could hear a low rumbling, but it was too indistinct to make out.

Once more they began to move, going from tree to tree and crouching there for several minutes, waiting for what Tintin had no clue. The odd noise got closer and closer.

The figure put up a hand, indicating that he should stay where he was and then disappeared into the dark rain forest. Tintin waited and glanced around a bit nervously as his ears caught the sound of things moving about, rustling the leaves or undergrowth. He wished he had a weapon in case something jumped out at him – whether man or beast.

He heard a soft whistle and looked up to find his rescuer beckoning to him. Walking over he felt the person put a hand on his chest and then point over and down. Stepping carefully, Tintin found they were on the verge of a cliff. It was too dark to make out how deep the drop off was. He felt the gloved hand grab his own and began to lead him down a very narrow path that twisted and turned, leading them ever closer to the sound, now a loud roar.

Turning a corner, Tintin gasped. A large waterfall poured over the ledge, and he had to crane his neck back to make out its origin, many feet above him. Peering down, he couldn't see where it landed. Feeling the hand give a tug, he once more allowed himself to be led, getting closer to the waterfall with each step.

Just as he thought they were going to walk into it, the spray hitting him then they turned. There was a cleft in the wall, unnoticeable until one was right upon it. Complete and utter darkness surrounded him, and he walked hesitantly, the only guide the hand that still grasped his.

Instinctively noting the sensation of space around him, and both hearing and feeling the spray from the waterfall he knew they had come to a cavern, hidden by the sheet of water. The hand let go of his and once more pressed to his chest. Halting, he stood there and waited. The sound of a match alerted him, but the sudden light still made him squint.

Tintin watched silently, a million questions burning inside him, as his savior lit an oil lamp and then beckoned. He followed deeper into the twisting cavern until the figure stopped and hung the lamp on a hook that dangled from the low ceiling. The figure turned and pointed toward some crates that were pulled into a semi-circle and he went and sat down.

He noted the mysterious figure was short like him and possibly thinner. It was hard to tell since the person was wearing very baggy camouflage. But there seemed to be something lithe in those movements, a certain grace.

After rooting around in various sacks, bags and other crates that were stacked up against the far wall, the figure handed him a tin of sardines, a box of animal crackers and some strips of dried meat. Grabbing a canteen, the person was gone for a few moments and then returned with it full, having filled it from the waterfall.

Joining Tintin and sitting down, the canteen was handed over and he took a deep, quenching swig and then proceeded to devour the feast he'd been given. Considering his last meal had been hours ago, the meager rations were feast indeed.

He could see those glittering, dark eyes upon him as he chewed and swallowed, but he was suddenly too famished to do anything but eat. Finally he licked his fingers clean of the last cracker crumbs, meat scraps and oily residue of the sardines and sat back, sighing contentedly.

Time to talk. Glancing toward his savior, he smiled pleasantly. "Thank you. Thank you for saving my life. I owe you." Holding out his hand, he continued. "I'm Tintin. And who do I have the pleasure of meeting?" he asked politely.

The figure continued to sit there for a long moment, those dark eyes staring him up and down. They were very…intent, those eyes.

He watched as a hand rose, disregarding his outstretched palm. It reached up and pulled off the cap, releasing a cascade of thick, black hair. Gaping a little, Tintin continued to gaze a bit disconcertingly as the gloves were then stripped off, revealing delicate hands. Wide eyed, he could only stare as those hands then pulled down the kerchief, to reveal…

A woman.

…


	2. The Warrior

The warrior. Gasp! A Woman! Who is she and what does she want with Tintin?

...

"You may call me 'El', you do not need to know my name." she said, her voice heavily accented. Her nose was long and narrow, the mouth wide and generous. High cheek bones accented her slim face, the chin too soft of an oval to be called pointed. Long eyes framed by thick lashes, punctuated by straight, somewhat broad eyebrows. Not beautiful, but attractive in a dark way. A more experienced male would call it sensuous, sultry.

Tintin nodded, stunned. His savior was female? And she was dressed in the garb of the revolutionaries. But then, was that really that strange? Women fought, worked hard, protected fiercely. He had read many a tale of women warriors – Boadicea, Mulan, Joan of Arc.

Realizing he was just sitting there rudely, he blinked and then smiled. "Hello 'El'. Again, thank you for saving my life. The lieutenant would have killed me as soon as looked at me."

Turning she spit on the ground. "Him. Murdering swine. Killed many, but no longer. Wasn't supposed to kill him, was there to watch, learn. Seen too many die to watch another killed by that butcher."

"Glad you were there." Tintin replied.

"So. You Tintin. Reporter from across the sea. You here to do story, bring news of my people to yours?" El asked as her black eyes bored into his.

"Er, well, not at first." Seeing those intense eyes narrow, Tintin rapidly spoke. "But I am now, believe me. I came here to investigate reports of smuggling, but then realized about the revolution. The world needs to know your people's struggle against this tyranny, and I will report it."

She nodded, short and sharp. "Good." Looking down, she gathered the empty tin and box. "Still hungry, want more?"

Tintin could have eaten an entire cow – hooves, hide and horns and come back for seconds, but he knew that whatever supplies there were in this hideaway was most likely hard to come by. "No, I'm fine, thanks." He said, shaking his head.

Taking her own drink of water, she sat and regarded him, her eyes sweeping up and down.

Reaching out a hand, she ran her fingers through his tuft of hair. "Fiery. Never seen such a color." Tintin had to tighten every muscle to keep his body from shivering at the feeling of those fingers as they gently caressed his scalp.

"And these? Heard of them, never seen them before." She stated, pressing a tip of one finger from freckle to freckle across cheek, over his nose and then the other cheek. Tintin found himself licking suddenly dry lips and glanced at the water bottle that dangled from her other hand.

"Thirsty?" She asked, her voice amused, holding out the canteen.

"Um…please?" He muttered, feeling his face blush for seemingly no apparent reason.

As he tipped up the canteen and took a swallow, he noted she was gazing at him with a small smile on her face, head tilted to one side.

Tintin lowered the canteen and made to wipe the excess moisture off his lips, when his hand was stopped by hers. Slowly she ran a finger around his mouth and then down his chin, where the fingers grasped him gently.

"You look young. But you are not as young as you appear." She pressed her lips together, than gave her trademark short, sharp nod.

With a motion almost too quick to follow, she grabbed the canteen from him, set it down and then turned back to him in one fluid movement, sliding over to sit against him.

Tintin found her arms around him and her lips on his and for a long moment he sat there – astonished beyond belief. No female had ever acted this way around him, ever. He was too young looking, too boyish, too…something…that seemed to keep girls at bay. It didn't help that he'd never made a move toward a girl, preferring to keep whatever small attraction he might have in check, never giving any hint of being fascinated by the female race. He'd made many an excuse as to why he kept himself apart, even if he didn't really believe all of them himself. After all, adventures were exciting enough.

But he had to admit, the feel of those lips were enticing, and being held in an embrace that wasn't just friendly had his body tingling. Burning in fact.

He stared at her as she pulled back, giving him a look. Blushing again, he managed to whisper "Sorry, not used to…kissing…girls." Taking a breath, he leaned forward a bit. "But I liked it. Please…don't stop."

El tilted her head again. "You never lay with girl?"

Tintin shook his head.

"Never lay with anyone?" She inquired, her dark eyes softening. "That a shame." She stroked a finger down his cheek. "So attractive. You lay with me?"

Taking another deep breath and holding it, Tintin sat for a moment and thought of many a reason not to. He was young, he was upstanding, he wasn't some lothario that made a habit out of having sex with anyone or everyone, he barely knew her, had never had sex before…

And yet… so what if he was young – he wasn't that young. And barely knew her. And never had sex before. There was a first time for everything, wasn't there? Of course there was. And why not now? Why not here? With her. Hadn't she saved his life? If it wasn't for her, he'd have never had the chance to have sex. (He conveniently forgot about being upstanding.)

Letting out the breath as his lungs were beginning to hurt, he took another and closed his eyes. Opening them he gazed deep into her dark and mysterious irises and then nodded. "Yes. I do want to lay with you. Please."

Once more his lips were captured by hers and he willingly surrendered. Over and over he pressed his mouth against hers and relished the strange but thrilling sensation. Her warm breath mingled with his. Her arms were wrapped around him, her hands rubbing slowly up and down his back. Slowly he brought his own arms around her, placed his hands on her back. He could feel the taught muscles and fine bone structure beneath the thick fabric of the uniform.

Gradually he became aware of something moist pressing against his lips and he opened them before giving it a thought. As the wet tongue slid into his mouth it sent all sorts of feelings scurrying throughout him, feelings that seemed to descend to his lower belly and stay there. Tintin gave a muffled 'umm' and let it investigate him. When it slid back out, he noted that her mouth stayed open, and he hesitatingly pushed his own tongue inside.

It was odd, exploring someone else's teeth and mouth, feeling the other tongue slip and slide against yours. Odd but good. Feeling emboldened he pressed a bit harder, lifted one hand up to bury itself into her thick hair and pull her closer. She responded immediately, deepening the kiss even more. It wasn't long before they became quite engrossed in swapping tongues back and forth.

Pulling back, he gazed into El's dark eyes, seeming even darker as the pupils had widened. Tintin wondered idly if his eyes were the same. Her hands slid around in front of him and then cupped each side of his face. She began to rain kisses upon him, covering every square inch – from chin to top of forehead, from tip of nose across each cheek. He gasped when he felt an earlobe sucked into her mouth, then moaned as her lips ran down the side of his neck.

Tintin blinked as those hands pressed against his shoulders, pushing him back a little. Smiling at him, El lowered her hands and then slid under his sweater. He felt them grab hold of his shirt; pull it up and out of his trousers.

Once more she moved quickly and before Tintin had time to think his shirt and sweater had been pulled up and off him, baring his upper torso. And before he had time to react, perhaps cross his arms over his sudden nakedness in astounded modesty, she was back in his arms and kissing soundly. He didn't bother to try and stop the shiver that shook his body at the feel of her warm hands caressing over his skin. Every so often she'd run a nail gently across his back, making goose bumps rise.

His belly was burning even hotter and the heat seemed to be going lower.

Feeling her shift again, he moaned with surprise and delight as one hand ran back around to his front, to tease at a tender nipple, the stimulated bud rising up. Tintin arched against that remarkable feeling.

Groaning in disappointment as she stopped, he opened eyes that had closed in pleasure and found her once more regarding him, head tilted and lips smiling.

Standing up, she moved to stand before him and began to unzip the one-piece camouflage uniform she wore. Tintin could feel the heat sweeping up him and sat frozen, his eyes wide.

Pulling the zipper down until it was just below her bellybutton (the small, seemingly innocent indentation becoming somehow enticing), she pulled the top off her shoulders and then gave a wriggle, sending the fabric down to her hips, revealing a grayish-green undershirt. There was nothing underneath. Tintin had noted breasts before, but had never seen them with nipples poking out through thin material. He watched fascinated as El stretched her arms up and arched her back, making her high breasts push out.

Taking a couple of steps toward him, she straddled his thighs. Tintin could only blink as she grabbed his hands and placed them on her breasts. The nipples thrust delightfully into his palms. Biting his lip, he gave an experimental squeeze and found the flesh to be firm yet giving. Smiling, he began to fondle them, rubbing his hands against the erect nubs, taking them between his fingers.

He gasped as she did the same to him, rubbing her hands against his chest, fingers pulling and squeezing his own nipples. Bringing his lips to hers, he kissed her passionately, driving his tongue in deep, feeling her mouth open wide for him.

His belly was on fire, along with his thighs. But it was nothing compared to the heat that was rising between his legs.

…


	3. The Temptress

Well, this is getting interesting! She certainly is introducing the lad to all sorts of new and exciting possiblities...

...

Tintin continued to kiss El urgently all while massaging her breasts through the thin fabric of her undershirt. Needing the feel of her warm skin on his hands, he dropped them down long enough to run them up under the ribbed cloth, skimming her soft skin with his fingertips. She gave an appreciating hum that changed to a purr as he once more took hold of those wonderfully firm peaks.

She let go of her own exploration of his chest to quickly pull her shirt over her head, tossing it to one side. For the first time in his life, he was staring directly at a woman's naked chest. Her nipples were a dark brown and stood quite erect. As he stared at them he couldn't help reflexively lick his lips.

Hearing a small chuckle he looked up to find her contemplating him with soft amusement. "You like, don't you? You want to taste?" she asked. Managing a nod, he felt one of her hands pull his head down toward her right breast and he found his mouth pressed against the soft yet hardened nub. For several moments he rolled it around his mouth and then began to give a light suck. El gave a long, contented sigh.

"You look like child. Could hold you like this for long time. But other parts of you are no child." She stated and Tintin couldn't help but gasp as he felt a hand on his groin, a very aroused groin.

No-one had ever touched him there before. He moaned around the nipple in his mouth as she began to stroke and rub against the bulge in his pants and he pressed his hips up. Tintin groaned as his already swollen cock strained against the fabric. He was going to need to let it out – and soon.

Still holding his head to her breast, she let go of his groin and scooted up, to press her own hips against his and grind into his lap. Tintin tried to suckle and grind back and found it a bit overwhelming – all these new and intoxicating sensations swirling and whirling about him – coupled with his own urgently growing need.

"Please…" He murmured around his mouthful. "Please…I need…to take off…pants."

She pulled back and grinned at him. Rising up (a bit reluctantly), he smiled back, feeling his head spinning a bit.

"You need more than just pants off. I take care of you." El announced and then slid back, her hands expertly undoing his trousers. Tintin tilted his hips up a bit and sighed as the four-squares were pulled off and down his thighs, along with his underwear, allowing his throbbing shaft and testicles to expand fully.

Sliding back even farther, she dropped to her knees in front of him, took his shaft in one hand and then leaned forward. Tintin had to stuff two knuckles into his mouth to keep the shriek from reverberating around the cavern walls as she sucked the head of his already leaking cock into her mouth.

Tintin's other hand was grasping the edge of the crate so hard he swore he heard the wood crack and it was all he could do to keep from writhing as she continued to suck him off. Every so often she'd come up for air and give his shaft the most delightful kisses, licks and nips. And when she lowered her head even more and did the same to his hot and heavy balls, Tintin decided to hell with it and did cry out most enthusiastically.

"OH! Oh please, yes, oh yes, please yes, don't stop, please!" He shouted and was glad for the roar of the waterfall; otherwise he was sure the entire forest could probably hear him.

Though he could gladly have had her continue her incredible administrations, he was beginning to reach the point of no return and began to buck his hips up and down. Sensing his need, El quickly returned her mouth to him and sucked even harder. It was the impetus he needed and Tintin flung his head back and his hips forward and proceeded to orgasm hard – his seed bursting from him in jet after jet.

Shaking his head to clear it and breathing hard, he gazed down a little dizzily to find her licking her lips and running a finger along her chin to wipe up the small bit of semen that had dribbled out.

Tilting her head in her trademark manner, she smiled. "Mmmmm – yes, no child are you. Full of juices. And soon you be ready for more, ready for all of this." Tintin could only sit and watch as she stood up and then moved to stand a few feet away.

Slowly, sensuously she began to move her hips back and forth, while sliding the zipper of the one piece completely down. He could feel his already slack mouth drop further as with each hitch of her hips, the clothing dropped further and further until it revealed a very scant piece of lacy, dark red underwear.

"Not what you expect? I am woman, why not dress as such. Just because in jungle, no reason not dress pretty." She stated, her head high.

"Ver…very pretty." He managed to stammer.

With one last shimmy, the outfit fell off her completely and she kicked it aside. Just as quickly she stooped and undid the laces of her boots and then kicked them aside as well, along with the thick socks, revealing rather dainty feet. The toenails, he noted somewhat distractedly, were painted the same shade as her underwear.

Standing back up, she stood for a long moment with one hand on her hip, letting him get the full picture of her. She was quite…intoxicating. Amazing. Irresistible. Here he was, Tintin, boy reporter, baby faced little pipsqueak, sitting in front of a practically nude, fully grown adult woman who had recently giving him a blow job and would soon…

Soon be losing his virginity to her. He was looking forward to it with great glee.

"You want I take off last, or you?" She asked coyly.

For a long moment, Tintin sat there. It wasn't that he was having a hard time deciding. It was that his brain seemed to be having an odd buzzing to it. "Ummm…you…take off." Remembering his manners from somewhere, he added. "Please."

Tintin's brain buzzed even louder as she put a finger inside on each side of the tiny satin strap that wrapped around her waist and slowly pulled them down, the triangular scrap of silk and lace material gradually revealing dark curling hair. He could feel his heart about to beat out of his chest and he knew he was blushing so deeply he thought it odd the cave wasn't glowing red.

Just before she pulled it completely off, she whirled around and presented him with her full rump, the buttocks nice and firm. Grinning back at him, she moved her legs back and forth, making those round and ripe orbs jiggle up and down. Tintin eyes bugged a little. They bugged even more as he realized that the small bit of underwear had fallen to the ground, to be picked up by her toe. She slowly turned and then gave a small kick, sending the panties arcing out toward him. He snatched them out of the air and then held them as he realized he was now staring at a completely naked female in all her glory.

His wide eyes took in the entire package – breasts riding high over flat, taut belly, hips curving sensuously, her legs were long and lean. And in between was a patch of dark curling hairs. Somehow he managed to raise his eyes up and found her mouth wide, smiling fully.

She stretched out one of her hands and Tintin didn't need to be asked twice. Standing up he somehow managed to pull off his pants and fling them away without tripping over them, kicked his shoes to one side and even succeeded to take his socks off, hopping up and down on first one foot, then the other.

Then it was his turn to stand fully naked, completely bare, his entire body exposed. He'd never felt so… unprotected and at the same time…willful.

El gave her sharp nod. "Strong. Slim and limber." He swallowed as her eyes traveled to and stopped at one spot in particular. Her gaze went from there to the top of his head. "Hmph, same color. We find out how fiery you are."

Stepping forward she grabbed one of his hands and then pulled him down, to lay beside her. Tintin reveled in the feel of her warm, silken body as it pressed against his, her legs twining with his. He tried to touch everywhere and anywhere at once, his hands roaming over arms, breasts, stomach, face. Lips met over and over, tongues slid in and out.

As he lay with her, touching and kissing, stroking and fondling, Tintin couldn't help the grin that lit his face. Soon, soon he'd be discovering all the secrets to a woman's body, soon he'd be one with her, and even more importantly - soon he would no longer be a child.

…


	4. The Lover

Tintin's ready to take that oh, so important step...

...

For several long pleasurable moments, he and the woman kissed and caressed each other. It was El who pulled back first, to look deeply into his wide, amazed, eager eyes.

"Hm-hm, yes, you ready, no?"

"Oh, yes, I'm very ready." Tintin agreed breathily.

"Not quite, still more to learn, my young one. Need to know how woman is, what gives her pleasure. Love making more than just thrust and juices, no…much more. No need to rush, take time – enjoy."

Tintin was all for that. As such, when she took his hand and guided his fingers down her belly he lay there quietly, allowing her to take the lead, keen to be introduced to the mysteries that lay between a woman's legs. Reading about them was one thing – actually experiencing them – absolutely wondrous.

When his fingertips felt the wiry yet soft strands of curling hair, he took a few moments to brush his fingers in and out of them. The heat that rose from the mound of flesh the hair covered astounded him. He could feel his own heat rising, as if in answer.

Further down his hand was pressed and he started a little as he realized the area was moist – wet, really. Quite wet. Tintin snuggled his head against her breasts, closed his eyes and began to explore the secret place he'd been invited into.

Folds and valleys opened up to his questing fingers and he ran them up and down the hot, wet flesh, his palm tickled by her pubic hair. She let her own hand lie gently on his, only pressing down a bit from time to time. He could hear her heart beating as madly as his, felt and heard her soft moans and sighs as he stroked her. As he explored further, he felt her grasp his longest finger and press it deep, giving it a gentle pull. Deeper and deeper his finger sunk down until he suddenly realized that it was in, not on, the digit surrounded by hot, moist, pulsating flesh.

Stilling he opened his eyes wide. He was inside her!

Taking a deep breath, he explored the wondrous cavity in which his finger was sunk deep, feeling odd ridges, soft walls, a curving bend. Tintin gasped as he felt the muscles tighten around him and then smiled with wonder. Pulling his finger out, he dived back in again, pulled out once more to run his fingers up and down those wet folds only to seek out that hidden entrance once more, just so he could make sure to find it.

Over and over he plunged his finger, feeling her beginning to move back and forth, meeting him with each stroke.

El was crying out much as Tintin had when she had sucked him. "Oh, Dios. Oh, child, so good, yes, you do good. More, my little love, another finger, go in."

He answered her command and pushed two fingers inside her, relishing the feeling of them sliding inside that giving flesh. His hand was completely coated with her feminine fluid, and he could smell the scent of it – musky and heady. He wondered oddly how it tasted.

"Oh, mi poco amor, Tintin, here, press me here…" She pulled his hand up and then pressed his index finger against a small nub at the front of her womanhood. Guided by her hand, he was soon pushing and pulling against it, rubbing and rolling it between his fingers.

She was making inarticulate groans, and her hips continued to thrust up and down.

Tintin's chest was heaving, his brain was on fire, his body even more so. He needed her. He had never been so aroused and he needed to sink inside her, become one with her.

Moving more on instinct than anything, he rolled over on top of her and felt her arms go around him, the fingers clutching at his back. Her legs spread and then lifted and he felt them go around his back as well. He spread his own legs a little as well and scooted down just a bit, again moving instinctively, lining himself up with her.

Pressing his hips forward, he took himself in hand and guided himself toward the spot he had so recently discovered. For a moment he couldn't find it, but then she moved her hips up as he moved his down and suddenly…

He was sliding into her. His throbbing cock was sliding inside her, being enveloped by her hot, wet, equally throbbing inner flesh. Tintin continued to thrust forward until he was completely engulfed.

They lay quietly, holding each other close, neither one moving. Tintin was trying to sort out all the sensations, sensations that were threatening to overwhelm his already blown mind.

He was lying on her, her supple yet firm body beneath him. He could feel both the softness of her breasts against his chest, her nipples hardened nubs that poked into him. Her ribs and hips were solid and pushed at him. Her limbs held him securely and her nails were sunk just enough in to be pleasantly painful.

But most of his attention centered on his groin. He could feel the entire length of his cock surrounded by her inner walls – so moist, so wet, so hot. And he was extremely aware of how his hot, swollen balls were pressing so tightly against the firm roundness of her buttocks.

Tintin couldn't believe it. He was one with a woman. Soon he'd begin to move, to surge and thrust, shove harder and faster and feel her answering response, ride each other higher and further until…

Until he spilt his seed inside her and he would finally, finally be a virgin no longer.

Rising up on his elbows he looked into her shining face, the bright, black eyes dancing, her lips smiling enticingly. Smiling back, he spoke softly, his voice husky. "I'm in you. I…I…I'm ready. Ready to make love to you."

"Si, amor, my little one, I know. You feel so good, take me, my love, make me yours." She whispered back.

Slowly at first he began to move, relishing the sensation of his cock sliding in and out of her wetness, hearing the soft, squelching noise. With each thrust hot flesh became even hotter, urgent needs became even more vital and it wasn't long before they were heaving back and forth, the cavern filled with their grunts and groans, pants and whimpers, exclamations of French and Spanish.

Tintin was no longer aware of any conscious thought, only of movement, heat, scent of sweat and musk, taste of saliva and skin, the sound of passionate bodies meeting each other again and again accompanied by wordless cries of equal passion.

As he climbed higher and higher he knew that she was right there with him, accompanying him ever upward, getting closer and closer to completion. He could hear her screaming, was aware of her body bucking and heaving not just under him, but around his shaft as well, somehow knew he had driven her to the ultimate ecstasy.

And entered into his own, his testicles and inner thighs, lower belly and rectum going through spasm after spasm as his semen spurted from his twitching, bobbing shaft and deep into her.

Tintin cried out in blissful agony and held on to her even harder. Sparkles of light danced behind his tightly clenched eyelids and he could feel his lips pull back from the intensity of his climax.

As he collapsed against her, he could only lay there and pant, his body lapsing into complete lassitude, his mind wanting to follow into oblivion. And yet, he was much too euphoric to sink into darkness. He'd done it! He'd made love! He was a man, a fully functioning male. Tintin suddenly had the urge to stand up and beat his chest.

Instead, he managed to pull his arms out from around her and rise up onto his elbows again. Once more he gazed down at his lover, this woman that had invited him into her arms and body. He wondered who she really was. Surely not just some ordinary guerilla fighter. He unexpectedly felt very protective of her.

As he watched her, those dark eyes opened and regarded him with an odd mix of triumph and care. "You good, mi amor, for first time. You enjoy, as well, I think."

"Oh yes, my love, ma petits, I enjoyed bueno." He replied, speaking both his native tongue and a bit of hers. "That was wonderful. I…again I thank you. Thank you so very much for this gift. I…can't tell you how much this, you…mean to me."

"Hush my little one. Now is not for speaking. Night lasts only so long; time is for speaking with bodies, mouths for kissing." She took his face into her hands and proceeded to do just that, and it wasn't long before they were beyond the need for any words at all.

…


	5. The Shadow

Tintin has found immeasurable pleasure and is quite content to stay in the arms of his newfound love. But is this to be?

Tintin woke to see the walls of the cavern alit by prism after prism of light. Turning a little, he tried not to wake El, who was pressed against him, arms and legs wrapped around him.

He smiled and tried to stifle a yawn. He doubted he'd been asleep more than a couple of hours, finally succumbing to exhaustion after coupling over and over, taking her once more from the front, then at her bidding from behind and then having her take him by sitting on top of him, facing both towards and away from him. For someone who had just recently lost his virginity, he certainly had made up for lost time.

Feeling her shift, he glanced down to find her staring at him with those dark eyes.

"Good morning." He greeted, smiling gently.

Only to gasp and frown as she pushed him away and stood up. "Yes. Morning. Must move on." She stated. She strode about the cavern gathering their clothing. "Quickly, we dress, eat. Must go."

"Er…okay." He replied, rather confused. Last night she had been warm and loving, whispering sweet endearments. Now she was back to how he had first met her – all business, hard and edgy.

Donning his clothes he accepted another handful of dried meat. Chewing at the tough substance he watched as she paced about the cavern, clearly impatient.

As he swallowed the last bite, washing it down with the remains of the canteen's contents, she twisted her hair up, jammed her cap down and then tied the kerchief over her nose and mouth, once more becoming the anonymous figure from the night before.

"Come." She commanded.

Tintin found his hand grasped and he was led down toward the waterfall, the morning sun streaming into it from the other side, rainbows glittering on every surface. He would have liked to have taken a moment to appreciate the beauty of the sight, but was dragged forward and then was once more at the small opening.

Again she stood and waited - her body tense and alert. Tintin still could not perceive any sign of what she was trying to detect. A hard tug and they were climbing up out of the valley, this time taking a slightly different route, one that eventually led far from the brutal government's outpost.

Once more Tintin find himself striving to keep up with a barely seen figure that flitted from tree to bush to rock, that crouched in shadow one moment and then scurried across a gap the next.

And same as last time, if he tried to speak, he received only a gloved hand over his mouth, a hissed rejoinder to be quiet.

At last they arrived at the top of a hill, and he could make out an encampment down below.

"You stay here. Don't move. Understand?" She indicated sternly, her dark eyes glaring at him. Tintin nodded and sank down. He watched as she made her way stealthily towards the camp, and lost sight of her rather quickly.

The sounds of animals and birds crying in the jungle around him were the only noises. He watched as a small stream of light made its way from leaf to leaf, marking out time. He judged a half hour went by, then an hour, then two. He began to wonder if something had happened, perhaps she had run into difficulty, was being held captive.

He recalled how protective he had felt about her last night, still felt that way. She was his lover, his first. Tintin's chest began to tighten and he shifted anxiously. Perhaps he should try and follow her, find out what was happening. Beginning to stand up, he suddenly heard the noise of soft footfalls. Crouching back down he waited, his hands in fists.

He heaved a sigh of relief as a familiar slight form stepped in to view, another larger figure beside her, dressed similarly. Both of them moved quickly to him. El gestured from Tintin to the new person, obviously male by heft and bulk.

"Tintin, this is Manny. Manny – Tintin. Take care of him, he special." Turning toward Tintin she stepped close. "He take you to city, you write about us. You let the world know, right?"

"Er, yes. Of course. But aren't you…I mean…." He ground to a halt, confused.

She brought her hand up and gently stroked his cheek. "No los pequenos." She whispered - her words only for him. "I go back, have work to do. Fight never ends, even for a fiery love as yours." She lifted her kerchief long enought to give him a swift kiss on the cheek. "I will not forget you, El Ardiento." And was gone, as if she had never been there.

Tintin stood stunned. He hadn't expected to make her the love of his life, but he also hadn't thought she would just be gone like that. He had hoped to get to know her better, talk with her. Make love to her some more…

Instead he only had the sweet, bittersweet now, memories of a night of passion he had never experienced before. Blinking as tears filled his eyes, he struggled to draw breath from a constricted chest.

And yet he understood. She was a fighter. Her goal was not to make some young lover her companion, have him be by her side through firefight and espionage. Though there was a part of him that would gladly have followed her, he also knew better. He too, had a job to do.

Turning toward the man who was still waiting silently, Tintin managed to smile, even though it was a bit wobbly. "Lead on my friend, I'm in your hands."

By nightfall he was back in the city, making arrangements to return to his home and from there write about the revolution that was taking place in this small country. He had learned a lot from Manny, who was the son of the general in charge of the revolt. The General had been a trusted advisor of the President, but had parted when the man had become corrupt, allowing gangs of thieves and smugglers to use the ports for all sorts of illegal activities.

Leading a revolution, the General had the population behind him and fought to displace the President and his equally corrupt officials. But the President had the backing of the syndicates and had held off the larger number by strength of weapons, as the armory was still in possession of the government and the revolutionaries had only what weapons they could fashion.

Unless something was done to alert the other nations to their country's plight, they would soon be forced to surrender and the land become a haven for any and every criminal. Tintin vowed to write story after story once he got home, and had promised the freedom fighter that help would come.

He had tried to find out more about El, but other than the man letting it slip that he knew little about El Sombra, he didn't give any more information.

As Tintin stood on deck of the ship that would take him across the ocean and then to home, he stared at the slowly vanishing shore and wondered who she truly was. But he knew one thing for sure.

He would also never forget her.

Fin.

**Author's notes:**

I purposefully made her vague, a chance meeting that led Tintin farther then he'd ever gone. She was a mysterious figure, sharing her love with a special young man and then moving on.

Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the amazing reviews. Wasn't sure how this one would be received as it is out of the ordinary for Tintin PWP, but hey - First time for everything - right? :-)


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